


the end of the earth

by niosism



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Other, Trans Character, dreams and illusions, grammar gets worse, he/they pronouns, rimika is a jade, rimika is mayblood's, timpas is an indigo, timpas is mine, unedited, word vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29185041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niosism/pseuds/niosism
Summary: he finds himself outside because he would forever regret his last day if he stayed in the place he was raised.
Relationships: Original Troll Character(s)/Original Troll Character(s) (Homestuck)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	the end of the earth

**Author's Note:**

> "i made a wish under the bloodshot sky  
> that this would all be a dream when i open my eyes"  
> \- fantasy, vixx

Timpas picks up his clothes from the floor. The light jacket weighs like a puff of air over his arm, just a barely-there pressure, his jeans scratching his skin even as it drapes over his shoulder. He hates the texture of them, doesn't know why he bothers with them when all they do is make his legs itchy. At least they're not leggins. Timpas hates tight clothing the most. The way they… he shakes his head. It's too early for this. 

What do you know about it? 

He stands there in his underwear, staring at whatever is in front of him. It's nothing, just a blank wall. He really needs to put something on there to cover how hollow it feels to have that hole there, but it kind of makes sense in a way, so he doesn't question it. 

It's a numbness that consumes them from the soles of their feet to the top of their head. They notice how they blink, but sometimes forgets to breathe. When fear is involved, it becomes hard to think. 

He feels like he lost something. He woke up thinking he was dead. There is an aching in his head that is so unspecific he can't figure out what it is, and he could if he just tried. He doesn't.

They don't look at the time, but they can feel it throbbing in his veins. 

What do you know?

Is it the impending doom of the universe that weighs them down? Yeah, right. He feels fine. 

They shake their head again, and this time they bring their hand up to their face and hits the skin of his cheek hard with a slap. They don't even flinch. He just breathes in deep, and lets out a big sigh. The tips of his fingers regain consciousness. He has control of his neurons again for at least some time.

Okay. 

He hears himself in his head now. That is them, not a foreign voice. It is their voice, even if it isn't perfect. Even if it isn't the voice they wish they had.

Haha. Yeah, right.

If it not rare for Timpas to get irritated with the sound of his thoughts speaking directly to him.

Timpas, shut up.

He was doing so well, and then his own voice came to try and pull him back into the dark. They hit their arms against each other and humm loudly, the sound reverberating within the tunnels of his cavern. 

He moves like that, with a noise loud and busy enough to shut out his own mind. Walking to his closet, they hand their jacket back on the rack and feeling his chest grow hard. Is it the cold, or the low bubbling anger? Whatever it is, it fuels his shame. He claws at his sternum instinctively, and sinks down to rummage through his shit for what he needs to surf this sudden wave.

Within the hour, he finds himself outside because he would forever regret his last day if he stayed in the place he was raised. 

in the outskirts of the city there is a town that becomes more and more a disorganized hoodlum paradise the more one goes out into it. out of the city a lot of times around it there is a lack of buildings and urban infrastructure so the outskirts are like a town of their own. their own little crany of civilization. their own society. it is a good thing too because in the city things are too hectic and oppressive. however, in the outskirts there is a bigger sense of self and individualism, as well as a more gentle way of life due to less drones, and therefore less policing activity such as bombings, and searching for random trolls to flag and turn into the heiress for no good reason. 

in this particular side of town timpas liked going in the past to scavenge and explore for their own amusement. it is not rare for a troll to feel boredom in places of more freedom on the planet, the few there are, and he just happens to be one of those souls that needs a very different kind of buzz. 

he doesn’t live here, but often goes out of his way to get out of his zone, which is not as comforting as most would think, or maybe he’s just that ungrateful, being someone higher up in the bloodcaste system of this oppressive planet. one would think it’s easy being rich or having power, but when it’s something that has been freely given and not earned, timpas doesn’t think much of it. on the other hand, he would rather not engage with it at all, or take the bait. so he comes to the poorer parts of his region, because he would like to get away from the role he was born into. 

timpas finds himself in a meadow. this time, he is thankful he didnt end up in a garbage shoot or a cemetery by accident (he likes things of an obscure nature, but cemeteries are honestly too much for his weak heart). his surroundings now are illusive, shrouded in a thick mist, and suddenly he doesn’t know how he got here or where he is. he can barely see his hand stretched out in front of him, and this is a cause of mild panic, but just when he is curling his hands into fists and feeling the sweat cool at the back of his neck, he remembers what he learned the day before. keep it together. stay calm. be still. there is no use in being anxious for nothing. thick mist is not a cause for panic, and neither is not being able to see farther than a few meters, as much as his brain would like to tell him otherwise. he lets his feelings get in the way of things too much. but this is not the time. 

he feels like he is dreaming. he’s forcing himself to breathe slowly and deeply, but his head keeps spinning, and he thinks he keeps seeing things, hearing the buzz of bees close to his ear when there is nothing really there. 

“great. i’m finally going off the deep end. serves me right. seriously, what did i expect? reading so much about hornless creatures with strange complexions and now i’m going to die. theyre coming after me. dear sweet marvus”

he stares at the ground but refuses to close his eyes, because hallucinations always get worse when he does. they become real. now he can still pretend there is nothing there. he just has to keep his eyes open. 

he doesn’t hear or sense it coming, but once it takes a notice of him it, he feels it staring and jumps back three feet, ready to run-

“hey.”

a soft voice reaches his ears, and before his hypersensitive system can take off he stops it because it sounds familiar. 

“what?!”

there’s a girl there. the mist is thick enough to blur many of her features, but her richly colored horns are still adequately visible. they are taller than his own, and curve like hooks outward, so that if you turn them around and put them together, they can form a heart. 

he deems himself speechless save for mumbles even he can’t make out, so she speaks for him.

“it’s been a while.” 

“w-why?”

“i had to figure some stuff out.” 

he doesn’t know who says that then, because the words that were inside of him feels like they’ve been released. he takes a few steps and trips over his own feet, almost bumping into her. 

“rimika i-“

she takes his hands and holds them in her own with a very soft touch that slows everything down. it’s like the mist has cleared now because he can see their hands clearly. they are shaking. his whole body is shaking. 

“i’m sorry.”

timpas grimaces. his nose flares and his brows become like sharks ready to jump on one another. he locks his jaw into place, and his teeth hold his tongue tightly inside for a few seconds, but his heart is beating too fast now, and he can’t hold it in. 

“i’m leaving tomorrow. the drones are taking me out of this stupid planet and you can’t do anything about it. i’ll never see you again and maybe, after everything, that’s how it’s meant to be.” 

he laughs drily, his eyes wet.

“you suck.” 

he nods to reassure himself because he doesn’t believe his own words. 

“i was on my way to the river. so i appreciate it if you let me go now” 

he doesn’t look at her face as he turns to run the opposite way, but grows in turmoil when he hears footsteps after him. he knows that she knows what river he is talking about. the one that smells like the rainbow. 

“timpas wait!”

her voice sounds like how he feels, so he keeps running in hopes of escaping it.

“timpas! don’t go!” 

he doesn’t know where he is going and is lucky enough to have ended up on a meadow with few trees to potentially bump into, but his luck is running thin the closer the night comes to sunrise, and he tripps right into some thorny bushes, ready to give up on everything. 

he doesn’t try to scream or wiggle himself out of this. just accepts that he is tangled and bruised and lets the thorns dig into his skin, even if it does a good job of being tough enough to not draw blood. it feels good to embody how he feels. let nature do the work, as it has his whole life, even as he tried running away from it. as he denied his place in society and tried to be different, to be better. in the end he finds himself back to square one. this is all he is. he wants to sleep forever. at least he can be himself in his dreams. at least he can be with her there. 

he hears the grass crunch beside him and does nothing. thinks nothing. keeps his eyes closed. pretends to not notice anything. she breaks the twigs and pulls out his limbs from under the bush. he doesn’t react as she wafts her hands over his clothes, picks at his hair, and accidentally brushes over his horn. he sits there, eyes closed, hoping that he is in fact dreaming, even when all he wanted was for her to really be there in front of him. 

“shhh”

she respects his silence and uses her hands to brush back his hair. it is darker and fluffier than her own, just as she remembers it. she understands that words don’t mean as much as actions do to him. she remembers that a gentle touch can calm him better than anything she could say. 

his eyes remain closed, but his expression is relaxed. she just hopes he has surrendered to something good, and not the demons she has learned haunt him. she hopes he doesn’t think of anything. she hopes he simply feels her fingers in his cheeks, wiping away the tears that flow from his closed lids. 

he opens his eyes, and seeing her there in front of him, he falls into her embrace. 

“i’m not dreaming.” he says, almost as a question.

“that’s if you consider me real.” 

he laughs and almost chokes on his own tears. this is all that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> if there is no hope then there is nothing at all.


End file.
